


Enemy Mine

by kiss_me_cassie



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, Friends With Benefits, Mild Smut, Mission Related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28539354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiss_me_cassie/pseuds/kiss_me_cassie
Summary: We've all heard of "friends with benefits" so why not "enemies with benefits"?
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55





	Enemy Mine

**Author's Note:**

> be_compromised's summer promptathon may be long over, but @gsparkle's prompt of "enemies with benefits" wouldn't leave my brain. 
> 
> much love and thanks to my trusty beta Crazy4Orcas who was kind enough to look this over in a jiffy!

Clint has the guy he's been tracking in sight. He just needs to move a few inches to the left so Clint can get a clean shot to his upper thigh, just enough to stop him in his tracks but not kill him, when…

 _Dammit_.

Clint curses as a redheaded woman suddenly appears on the pier below, a blur of action as she launches herself at his target. 

It's the same woman he's seen during a handful of other missions over the past year. Who the heck is she and why is she currently getting in his way?

By the time he shoots a grappling arrow at the building across the way and swings down to the black top, the guy is dead.

"What the hell?" he demands when he gets within shouting distance. 

She finishes her patdown on the body then looks up. "He doesn't have the diamonds on him, if that's what you're worried about."

"No kidding! That's why I wasn't about to go for a kill shot," he grumbles, crouching down and checking the guys pockets himself, just to make sure. "What kind of second-rate operative goes for the kill when they aren't --"

"I am _not_ second rate," she interjects indignantly. "Which I'm sure you've already determined, given how often our paths have crossed lately."

"Yeah, well, that's not the point," Clint grouses. 

"Then what is the point?" she asks, pulling a tarp off a nearby stack of crates to reveal a hidden motorcycle next to them. 

"The point is, he knows where the diamonds are and if you'd have let him live --"

She stops fiddling with the bike long enough to tilt her head at him and give him a curious look. "They're with Moreau. They were handed off to him last night at the house party. Why doesn't whatever American alphabet soup you work for know that?"

Fuck. Good question. He'll have to talk to Sitwell about Alpha Squadron's intel. He frowns. "Wait a second… If you knew he didn't have the diamonds, why did you kill him?"

She holds up a thumb drive for a brief moment before slipping it into a pocket. "Because he had more information on me than I wanted him to."

Stepping forward, she gives him a quick kiss on the cheek, surprising him in a not unpleasant kind of way. But before he has any time to process it, she hops on the bike and crams the helmet over her wayward curls.

"You're welcome!" she shouts as the motor roars to life and she zooms away.

\-----

A few weeks later, he finds himself following her through a small city on the edge of the Czech Republic. Clint's here to acquire information from one of the deans at the local college, but as soon as he spots her enjoying a coffee at the local cafe, he can't help but put a pin in his mission to find out what she's up to.

For once, her objective doesn't appear to coincide with his, since he notices she's completely indifferent to anything connected to the college and is tracking two goons connected to a local drug ring instead.

He has to admit he's intrigued, so he follows her for the good part of an afternoon as she surreptitiously follows them. 

The game is almost up, however, when the two goons make a sharp turnabout and head back in the redhead's direction. She wheels around and, spotting him almost immediately, pushes him into an alley and up against the wall.

"Kiss me," the woman demands. He barely has a second to react before her lips are against his, her hands on his chest giving the appearance of tenderness while keeping him in check. 

Mentally, Clint shrugs. He's been used for far worse than cover and in much less enjoyable ways. But that doesn't mean he's not going to give her a little bit of a hard time about it.

He pulls back just the slightest bit and smirks at her. "You know, if you'd wanted to kiss me this whole time, all you had to do was ask. I'm not saying I would have said yes but I certainly would't have --"

"Shut up," she hisses, the sound completely incompatible with the coquettish look she's flashing him. She presses her mouth to his again. "Just shut up for two minutes until they're gone."

And Clint figures, why not? It's not a very passionate kiss they're sharing - not by any means - but it's not exactly unpleasant either and his nether regions seem to be enjoying it just fine. Probably more than they should but whatever.

Her lips are warm and pliant against his and he can taste just the slightest hint of cherries. He darts his tongue out to trace along her bottom lip and chase the cherry flavor and she tenses for a moment before melting against him with a soft sigh.

It's a few minutes later, and Clint has to admit he's kind of gotten lost in the kiss and forgotten her initial objective, when she steps back and flashes him a genuine smile. 

"Thanks for the assist. Now we're even," she says as she backs away and disappears amongst a crowd of college kids passing by.

\-----

They might be even just about now, but that's not going to help them much as bullets fly over their makeshift shelter and embed themselves in the concrete above their heads.

"How much ammo do you have left?" he asks, eyeing the gun in her hand and the one still strapped to her thigh. 

"Not enough," she answers. "You?"

A quick glance at his quiver reveals a pitiful number of arrows left. "Same."

"We can't stay here," she declares. "They have too much of an advantage. We'll have to make a run for it."

Clint nods at her assessment. "How about a kiss for luck before we head out into the breach?"

She raises an eyebrow. "A kiss? Now? Really?"

"Sure, why not?" he asks, shrugging. If he's about to meet his maker, he'd like to go out with a pleasant memory and kissing her is about as pleasant a thing as he can think of right now.

She smiles and presses her lips to his for a long, lingering moment, leaving a small smear of cherry lip gloss on his mouth. He licks it away and is gratified to see how hungrily her eyes follow the path of his tongue along his lips. She's not as unaffected by him as she acts. 

But now is neither the time nor the place to pursue that thought. They'll have to pull off a hell of a surprise attack to get out of this alive.

"Ready?" he asks.

She nods and they both dart out of their hiding space.

Despite all odds, they make it out alive, although they're both a little worse for wear afterwards. He's got a bullet graze along his upper arm and he's pretty sure she's dislocated her shoulder, but they're both limping away under their own steam so that's something.

"Hey, about that kiss," he starts.

"Consider it a parting gift. Dasvidaniya," she murmurs, giving him another short kiss and then darting off into the night.

\-----

He's on the roof of the building next to the embassy, sniper scope up to his eye as he scans the third floor windows for his target when he hears the whisper soft sound of the access door opening and curses under his breath. He's really not in the mood for some hand to hand combat right now. 

Tensing, he's about to swing around, rifle at the ready, when the light scent of cherry lip gloss hits his nostrils and he relaxes. 

"You here for the Ambassador or the Senator?" he asks casually, putting the scope back up to his eye to continue his surveillance of the Embassy. "'Cause I have dibs on the Senator."

She laughs as she lowers herself into position next to him. "Neither."

That startles him enough that he lowers the rifle a fraction of an inch so he can shoot her a questioning glance. "Oh?"

"I have a proposition for you."

"I'm not interested in a job. I've already got one, thanks. It even comes with benefits, dental and everything," he quips.

"Not a job," she defers. "But I did want to make an offer of a different kind regarding benefits."

Her voice is low and throaty and that - along with her comment - gets his attention. He sets the rifle against the roof ledge and shifts to look straight at her.

"Am I right in assuming you're talking about benefits of a sexual nature?"

"Yes," Natasha says, staring him down. "Why not? Think of it as a way to blow off some steam or burn a bit of excess adrenaline while also enjoying ourselves."

She shrugs, feigning indifference, but he knows her well enough by now to know she's very invested in his answer and is banking on a yes from him. 

"Yeah, but…" Clint stops, not really sure how to finish that sentence. His body is certainly interested and getting more so by the second as she worries her lower lip while she waits for his answer. It's a calculated move, he's sure, but that doesn't make it any less effective. He wants to kiss her senseless until her lips are red and tender because of him. And then he wants to tumble her onto the nearest flat surface and sink himself so deep into her that neither one of them can think straight.

He really, really wants that. But despite her very sound reasoning and his body's very strong desire to say yes (Damn, how long has it been since he's been on a proper date?) he hesitates.

"Why me?" he finally asks.

"Because I've noticed we wind up in a lot of the same places. And because I find you not unattractive."

Clint snorts. "That's hardly a glowing recommendation."

"And because, like you, I don't have many opportunities to meet someone who makes my body hum the way you do. Why not take advantage of the situation we find ourselves in? It doesn't have to mean anything "

She holds out a key card and he takes it, examining it in the moonlight before tucking it into the vest pocket of his tac suit.

"Hotel Principe di Savoia. Room 308. I'll be there through Friday. It's your choice," she says, rising to her feet. She tips her head towards the Embassy. "I believe your mark just entered the southwest tower."

With a curse, he picks up his rifle and by the time he glances back, she's gone.

\-----

He shouldn't be here, Clint thinks two days later as he stands outside the door to Room 308. She may not be the enemy, but she's definitely not an ally either. He doesn't even know her name for Christ's sake, although he has his suspicions. She's a wild card who could easily kill him in his sleep.

But he's pretty sure she won't, which is why he's currently standing here in the hallway, key card in hand, about to make one of the stupidest mistakes of his life. 

"I was wondering if you were ever going to come," she says throatily when he finally lets himself in and closes the door silently behind him. "How long did you spend debating the pros and cons of my proposition?"

"Long enough," he replies. 

He's not sure what he expected -- her spread out naked on the bed, a bountiful buffet for his enjoyment? -- but it certainly wasn't her in a fluffy hotel robe curled up on the chaise lounge with a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

"Can I offer you some?" she asks, gesturing to the steaming pot on the table before her.

"Yeah, sure, let's start there," he says as he takes a seat in the chair to her left. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So I've got to ask - again - why me?"

She sets her book and tea cup down on the tray and comes around to stand in front of his chair, reaching out a hand to tip his chin upwards so she can lean in and kiss him. He smells and tastes the familiar cherry lip gloss again as she opens her mouth to his, her tongue flicking against his, and he groans. 

Damn, but the woman knows how to kiss. He's gone from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds and they both still clothed. Or, well, close enough. What's it going to be like when they're naked, slick skin against slick skin? His brain short circuits at the thought. 

She pulls away from the kiss and grins. "That's why."

And then she opens her robe and Clint loses all ability to think anymore.

\-----

The night in Milan is just the start. They meet again and again in any number of cities, from Hamburg to Prague to Paris. And each time their joining is more explosive than the last. 

In addition to her name, he learns that Natasha is ticklish behind the knees and that he can practically make her come if he sucks at just the right spot on her neck. He also learns that she's originally from Russia, smart as a whip, and has a dry but wicked sense of humor.

But the whole thing is starting to become a problem. 

Not because they've got different loyalties or because they're frequently on opposing sides. Not even because he's pretty sure she's the Red Room operative SHIELD has been looking into. 

Oh no, Clint could have found a way to work with that. It's become a problem because he's gone ahead and done something even stupider than taking her up on her offer - he's fallen in love with her.

"I should go," Natasha says one night, sitting up and pushing the sheet aside, exposing so much beautiful pale skin that Clint has to resist the urge to grab her hand, pull her back down onto the bed, and kiss her senseless.

Instead, he settles himself against the pillows and watches as she gets up and starts to dress. And still he can't stop himself from practically begging her to reconsider. "My extraction team won't be here until 0200. You could stay longer if you wanted."

She shakes her head and smiles somewhat wistfully at him. "I can't. _Budu skuchat' po tebe moy durak_."

He wills himself to lie still as she leans down to kiss him one last time. Just because he's been a stupid fool and fallen in love doesn't mean that this has turned into anything more than what she initially suggested - an enemies (or maybe friends?) with benefits situation. A quick tumble between the sheets whenever they happen to be in the same place at the same time, nothing more despite how often it keeps occurring.

"You know I still don't know any Russian, right?" he finally says as she steps away to slip on her shoes.

Natasha kisses his cheek and heads for the door. "Da, I know."

\-----

His heart drops when Coulson hands him his next assignment. He's been tasked with tracking and eliminating the infamous Black Widow.

Which should be a cakewalk given how often he and Natasha meet.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He already knows where she'll be next. There's an arms dealer in Tunisia that she's had her eye on, although he's not sure if she's aiming to buy from him or take him down. But either way, it won't be hard to find her once they're both there. The job should take two days tops.

It takes him a lot longer, mostly because he hems and haws and puts it off as long as he can. Until, finally, he can't anymore. Coulson is a patient man, but he's got his limits.

He catches her unawares outside the marketplace one night. His Natasha, fierce and strong and unflinching, despite the fact that he has an arrow nocked and pointed at her throat.

"It was only a matter of time before we were well and truly up against one another wasn't it?" Natasha says, her stance not wavering for even a second. She smiles sadly. "Budu skuchat' po tebe moy durak."

He can't do it. He loves this woman desperately and it doesn't matter what his orders are, he won't kill her. Coulson's just going to have to suck it up and convince Fury to let her become an agent for SHIELD instead.

"You know, I've been brushing up on my Russian," Clint says, lowering his bow. It's risky. She could take the dagger she holds in her hand and plunge it into his gut in an instant. Or she could go for the jugular and slit his throat. But he doesn't think she'll do either of those things. He's betting her feelings for him are just as strong as his are for her. 

Her eyes flash to his and they stand there - frozen - for endless seconds before she speaks, her voice filled with hopeful caution. "When did you have time to learn Russian?"

He shrugs. "I had some free time while studying up on my latest mark, the Black Widow."

Natasha blows out a breath and his eyes are drawn to her mouth and her beautiful, soft, enticing lips. What he wouldn't give for a kiss from those lips right now. But there's still the little matter of the knife she holds between them.

"What did you learn?" she asks, fingers idly turning the knife round and round. He bites back a smile when he realizes she's handling it less like a weapon and more like an object to channel her nervous energy.

"This and that," he replies, finally giving in and letting his lips twitch upwards in a grin as he holds out his hand. "I started out with _tebya lyublyu_ , but then learned some other phrases. So what do you say, wanna come be a fool with me? Maybe consider joining SHIELD?

She flips the knife in her hand and stabs it into the sheath strapped to her thigh. Then, with a blossoming smile on her face, she places her hand in his and he pulls her in for a cherry flavored kiss to seal the deal.

**Author's Note:**

> Budu skuchat' po tebe moy durak - I'll miss you, my fool  
> tebya lyublyu - I love you


End file.
